


Love and Prosper

by KyleBlamedCanada



Category: South Park
Genre: M/M, South Park: The Stick of Truth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 13:22:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14569911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyleBlamedCanada/pseuds/KyleBlamedCanada
Summary: The fight between the humans and the elves will end within the next battle. At least that’s what the hope is. The Elven King and his right hand man have took it upon themselves to break into Kupa Keep’s fortress of a castle and end the war once and forever. There’s just one small problem: The Elven King’s Warrior is in a forbbinen love.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I made this for a First Semester writing project. Cheers to this becoming something people actually enjoy (im sorry for any errors)

They're pretty average for his age. His hands are flexible, pale, but the fingers are short and red from always grabbing his quill. His skin isn't fat enough to wrinkle, swelling red where they bend at the knuckles. His fingers are slightly longer than his friends, and a lot neater as well. When he spreads his fingers, there's enough space to fit countless golden rings that may have been stolen.  
But the rings lay in the treasury and his fingers are laced with lilacs instead of gold, nature that only someone as powerful as him could summon with a sharp snap. And of course, those one-child-like hands are adult, covered with thick black gloves, hiding who he really is. The hidden hands grip the side of one of the stone buildings within the Wizard King’s land. 

I would say that the Kingdom of Kupa Keep is like a golden city, protected by heavy rituals and gifted with traitors. I should know, being one of those traitors. My own hands nervously fiddle with my cloaks clasp as I look around, trying not to catch the attention of the guards I once led. 

“My Lord,” I begin, trailing off as my voice cracks and falters as I turn to the King by my side. 

Before this we would sneak into the woods to play in the forest but now the forest is a battleground rather than a playground. Our faces are covered by the night-like fabric but I see the thin line of his frown showing as he turns to my eyes.

“Are you sure this is the best choice of action?” I know my King well, and I see his gloved hand grip the stone wall tightly. I know that his wrath is just as painful and merciless as the flames that destroyed his home.

“As long as we aren’t noticed, everything will go to plan. I will make sure of that.”

My stomach knots with uncertainty and sickness but I keep the bile in my stomach. There could be a trap waiting beyond those gates. The Wizard King is just as predictable as The Elven King. The two could be friends if one wasn’t so heartless and greedy. My Lord fixes his hood so his ears look human before stepping into the market and I follow swiftly. Silence would only draw attention so I quicken my pace to match My Kings. We pass a cart of wilting flowers and the colors within the petals turn brighter and the stems twist stronger, only noticeable to those who know the certain clicks of Elven Magic.

I look away from the cart and focus on the stone slabs of the road. An object becoming stronger and more beautiful than it once was...I’ve seen that happen with the King at my side, small and trembling boy turned into a tall and powerful King. 

My stomach flips as I think about The Elven King, how powerful his decisions are, how quickly he can come up with solutions, how strong and caring he can be in a time of desperate need. The Marketplace is loud with bargains and pointing fingers. I can feel My Lord drifting closer to my side for protection from the unfair sales of stale fish and rotting deer. 

Our hands brush and before I can stop myself, my fingers are wrapped around his wrist in comfort. He doesn’t pull away and I assume he’s grateful for the touch. I can’t read him well without seeing his kelly-lime eyes.

“My Lord--” A jab in my side makes me grunt and cough as we pass by a guard trying to break a fight between merchants. “Kelvhan, may I ask you a personal question?”

The Elven King hums with amusement and nods, “You have no reason not to.”

I fiddle with my cloak clasp again and sigh, “Have you ever...had feelings for someone...who you know you can never...be with?”

My Lord, Kelvhan, looks up at me with a bit of surprise, “Is this about Wendy?”

“Not...Wendy, per say...but if it makes the question easier to answer than I suppose so.”

Kelvhan hums and nods, thinking. 

Wendy is a good friend of mine, apart of a tribe of females rebelling against the Wizard King. Kelvhan and their leader, Heidi, made an alliance years ago and our tribes have been helping each other since.

Wendy and I used to be together as lovers but a history between The Female Leader and The Wizard King made things difficult. With Wendy being female, and myself being male, we broke apart for the best for our tribes but Wendy remained as one of my closest allies.

My eye catches two females setting down a woven grass basket. Their heads are covered with cloths to block the scorching sun and they bend to look into the basket, which has nothing but dirt. 

“I believe that my status puts me in a position that makes the question unanswerable.”

I nod and turn back forward, “We should go on ahead.”

I quicken my pace, tugging the Elven King’s wrist behind me before letting go. We weave our way through the gathered midday crowd, coming closer and closer to the wall that barricades the castle from the outside world. The Wizard King has four defenses: his Army, the Town, the Wall, and his Magic. Soon, his empire would fall.

I trail my hand over the tall stone wall carefully. It’s smooth, no way to climb over. The only way through would be to blast a hole in the defense. I almost did. But I was given an order I was thankful for.

Screams interrupt my thoughts and I look back to see a great oak tree digging its way into the road, pushing aside any buildings in its way. It grows to tower over the great wall, it’s leaves rich and branches thick. Elves run from the shadowed alleyways and begin to climb the great tree, their goal to reach the stone barrier. People run away, saving what useless goods they can as its trunk takes up the roadside. Guards run past and I see only a handful of familiar faces as they run to halt the invasion scurrying up the tree. Kelvhan breaks into a run in the opposite direction and I follow suit, staring at the wall for my broken path.

I suddenly screech to a stop and push aside a cart, finding a crack big enough for a sword to fit, like a keyhole. The Princess told the truth, as in her letters.

I quickly call My King over before unsheathing my hidden sword, one with no name. I removed the name once I entered the forest, erasing my past. I aim and then thrust the sparkling metal into the hole. I wait for a moment before moving my arm to raise the sword above me. As soon as the sword moves, an elf-sized hole crumbles before us, showing a pit hidden within the great wall.

“Just as I remember it…” I trail off, sheathing my sword and jumping forward, falling down the small pit leading into darkness. I land clumsy but Kelvhan is light from the forest, jumping down without a sound. He kicks at the ground and then looks at me, the rays of sunlight leaking into the hole illuminating his brilliant eyes.

I take a careful breath of dusty air before crouching down and moving forward into a dirt-made tunnel.

Before I served the Elven King, I served the Wizard King in his corrupted way of greed and destruction. I was wise not to speak out, knowing that my neck would only be used as entertainment for the Wizard King, but my pride let my lips loose to the correct person: The Princess of Kupa Keep.

The Princess is a woman chosen to be next to the throne, not born. But she is wise and calm and kept my treason a secret, listening carefully as I let the worry escape my pent-up thoughts. I owe her my life. She was the one who told me to escape the Kingdom and join the Elves in the forest, knowing well my relationship with the Elven King himself was closer than most. That’s when I started working on the tunnel. Hardly sleeping for many a night, I dug out a way with my hands. I ran away as soon as my sword chipped through the stone wall, fleeing the place I called home my entire life. I ran until I reached the arms of the forest, and Kelvhan took me into his home. I erased my sword of the name The Wizard King gave it and swore my allegiance to the elves for eternity. That night was one of the happiest I would have come to know. 

My hands brush against a wooden trap door above us. We’ve arrived. I look back to My King, seeing nothing other than his deepened outline. My stomach knots again, hoping that the room above us was empty. I push the wood and it gives away, letting me stand as small flutters of dirt fall to the bottom of the tunnel. The room is empty of people and cluttered with armor and personal belongings.

I set the unhinged door to the side and climb out, turning around to help Kelvhan into the room. His hands are ungloved, probably to feel the dying earth under his fingers and give it reassurance. His hands are thin and pale but the fingers are tough and red from work with the forest. His skin isn't fat enough to wrinkle, but it stretches against his bones, showing white whenever they bend at the knuckles. His fingers are slightly longer than his palms and his nails are cut like the gentle slope of a hill. His fingers are littered with flowered rings that shine just as bright as gold or silver.

He grabs my own hand with a force you wouldn’t expect from an elf at his size. I'm familiar with his strength, and I pull him out with ease as the cloak that rested on his shoulders falls back into the pit. There’s no use for it now.

The Elven King stands taller than the average human. His hair is a messy curl of autumn amber, the only thing keeping it from his glistening eyes is the spiked and thorny wooden crown passed down from generations. Small patches of freckles litter his face, twenty-three on the right and 18 on the left, and his slender neck is hidden by the red royal robe he always wears. The cloth is like the first drop of blood spilled on the battlefield. The patterns on the robe show a golden color, stitched together to make branches hugging the King’s arms and torso.  
Kelvhan is the exact image of a True Royal Leader.

My Lord brushes past me quickly, eager to leave the room we are in and continue with the mission. We had entered the sleeping quarters of the Wizard King’s army, an army I used to lead with my brothers. My eyes turn, catching the bed I used to sleep on. Of course, it had been filled quickly with another soldier's body, one that could be easily tossed away in battle like a slip of paper. Everything that I had left behind was gone, except for the tunnel. The one we had used to enter the castle grounds, the one that The Princess promised she had kept safe in her letters.

I quickly cross the room to stand by my King, worried for him to leave my line of sight. I tug his arm gently towards one of the doors, silent as we approach it. The room itself is only one of many, filed by rank and experience, each room has certain doors that lead to certain places in case of a surprise attack or an infiltration. I know which guards took which path, and I know that our path will not cross a single one of them but we can not risk getting caught. 

I crack the old wooden door open and listen carefully for the thick and clumsy march of metal feet. I step through after a moment, nothing in sight other than the long corridor of dimly lit torches. I signal for My Lord to follow silently and the two of us speed off down to where the torches become weaker with light. We keep to the shadows, knowing the fear of the Dark Lord will hide us well enough to sneak by anyone who crosses us.

The corridor of stone and light is replaced by darkness and cold, unforgiving metal bars of rust and disease. A circus of death for its prisoners and entertainment for the Wizard King. The Darkness spills from one prison in peculiar, The Cage for The Dark Lords Assassin. Kelvhan brushes past me quickly and stands in front of the cage as the dark mist-like shadows lick at his clothes. My heart pounds in my chest and I scurry next to him, pressing against his side. I wouldn’t forgive myself if something happened to My Lord.

“Feldspar,” Kelvhan’s voice echoes through the darkness as his voice speaks out the name sharply. The smog from inside the cage billows, slamming against the bars with an angry rumble. I step in front of my King as his protection, hand at my sword, but he forces my guard down as something comes through the pitch black darkness. 

The figure is tall, it towers over me like a troll but its body is thin and unproportioned. Its arms and legs are long and knife-life. It wouldn’t need a weapon, its hands and feet aren’t normal. They thin out into spears, no fingers or toes. A great balancing act. The assassin towers over My King’s height. It’s leather clothes hide it’s bone-like structure while its cloak hides its mouth, it’s eyes showing nothing but inky pools of void and hair that blends into the night-like mist, the source of the darkness.

Kelvhan nudges my side and I tense up before remembering the pouch tied around my waist. I quickly open it and hand ivy seeds to him. Our hands brush for a moment and I can feel how lush and soft his palms are compared to mine. He quickly grabs the seeds and brings them to his mouth, whispering softly before dropping them in front of the metal bars.

The seeds fall onto the stone floor and bounce through the cracks between the slabs, searching for the earth. I stare down at the ground. This was my second favorite part.

Small leaves poked from the ground and the stems reached out to My Lord’s legs, like a child begging for its mother. Kelvhan knelt down and brushed the weak leaves with his fingers.

“Hush, now. I know. I know. The earth is poor. I will give you strength, my child,” The King gently whispered and the stems wrapped around his wrists, accepting his gift of life.

The Wizard King had made it difficult for plants of any type to grow, spread, and prosper. At first it was to make the people of his kingdom rely on him but then it grew into a petty action to retaliate against the Elves with. This enraged My Lord, and he was willing to give whatever was needed to let life spread again.

The ivy vines grew thick and strong, the stems throwing themselves at the cage that kept the assassin and tearing the bars apart. Feldspar’s smoke rolls through the space between the bars as he steps through. The assassin himself was human, but only partly. His loyalty to the Dark Lord gave him the power of the shadows, but he himself wasn’t. And although human, too much sunlight kills those of darkness, which is what The Wizard King infused the prison with.

His magic is growing stronger.

Darkness envelops My King and I, blinding us as a whisper of gratefulness echoes through our skulls. It doesn't hurt, but it makes my brain hum gently. 

“Feldspar,” Kelvhan’s voice is as bright and clear as always. “If it would be to your convenience, we would like to request your assistance in our quest.”

The Darkness around us is silent. I grab My Kings wrist protectively, uncertain about the echoing request. You can not order The Dark Lord’s Army. Doing so would cost in unbearable pain worse than death. A request or a question of utmost respect can only be said, and the answer lends you temporary power over them.

The rumble around us deepens, “As my King has ordered, I will help you. Life and Death shall work as one.”

Of course, Feldspar’s answers were always too vague to give control over to the questioner.

“We appreciate the support,” I can hear My Lord grin dangerously with excitement.

“The Dark Lord thanks you for freeing me. More troops are coming. I will lead them.”

The smoke around us fades and I watch the assassin rush down a corridor into the shadows. The dim torches around us spark up brightly and I look down at My King.

The torchlight echoes off his eyes, they are brighter than the freshest patch of grass on the first day of spring. The kelly-lime green shine as if The King had always been crying drops of morning dew as the sun rises. 

I turn my gaze away before he notices my too-long of a stare and I turn to the long corridor of prison cells. Many of innocent men, women, and children died here. The Wizard King’s cruelty showed no bounds. Rumors had used to spread of The Wizard King not being the rightful ruler to the throne, but when he made an adolescent eat his own parents, no one spoke ill of The Wizard again. He has the nerve to call himself a king.

I lead the way through the stone tunnel of death until we come to a staircase leading up to the castle itself. We hurry up the stairs, coming to an empty floor where the great iron front gate is locked and bolted. There are two curved staircases leading up, higher and higher to where The Wizard King’s throne room is. Kelvhan looks up, his eyes narrowing as he brushed his loose hair back behind his crown, he always complained about his hair when we were younger, whining how it made him stand out and how he could never control it. I always loved those amber curls and I still do.

He mumbles a dirty curse towards the Wizard King before stepping forward to climb the staircase.

“Halt, Elf!!”

A voice rings out and I jump between the voice and My Lord, sword drawn and ready to attack. The voice clicks his tongue, saying my name. I realize that I know that voice from my past and as the voice speaks and sneers, the owner steps out from behind the staircase.

“It seems as though The Wizard King was right. You are a traitor to your own kind.”

The young man wears a long teal robe and a cloak of midnight blue. His shoulders and chest are protected with golden plates filled with magic. No doubt given to him by The Wizard King. He stands tall and proud, his right gloved hand resting lazily on his Hammer of Lightning and Justice. Or what this ‘Kingdom’ calls ‘Justice’. What do you expect from The Wizard’s right-hand man?

“Leopold,” my voice growls and the grip on my sword tightens. He was waiting for us. He knew I would come this way with The Elven King. It was an ambush. 

“You dirty, rotten, poor soul of a man,” he has the nerve to chuckle. “You really expect for me not to suspect some trickery with that diversion you set up?”

The back of my throat feels sticky but I step forward, my stance low but strong. 

Leopold laughs, “Is that what the Elves taught you!? How to be a coward!?”

I feel hands brush against my waist and the pouch tied around me is removed like a heavy weight. At least now I can trust that My King will be safe, even if I’m not by his side. But still, my worry will not stop unless I’m by his side. Just like always. 

As soon as the pouch is in My Lord’s hands, I charge forward with narrow eyes. I nearly catch Leopold off guard with a swing upwards but his hammer blocks it, the metal crackling with lightning.

I push his hammer to the side and kick his stomach, glancing to see My King running up the mighty staircase of the Wizard’s home. I look back at my foe in time to evade from his swinging hammer, jumping back and circling around the Paladin.

“You really think that lowly Elf can get away in this palace?” the man scoffs. “You’re just like a child!”

I chuckle, “Do not forget that I used to lead you into battle, that I am more experienced in war, that I taught you everything that you know.”

“You left this kingdom!!”

“I was smart enough to know the difference between right and wrong.”

“Looks like your so-called-king doesn’t!”

He makes a move to follow My King but I block him with my sword.

“I do not expect for My Lord to escape. Why would he, Leopold? Why would he leave so soon?”

Leopold’s grip on his Hammer slackens as he thinks and I use it to my advantage, swinging my sword horizontally to strike his chest. But of course, he’s been training. In our sparring matches I would knock the weapon from his hand and strike him down while he was distracted. This time he matches my movement and our weapons clash, a blinding flash of lightning exploding between us and throwing us on opposite sides of the room. 

Thunder rolls as my back slams against the tall stone wall behind me and I hear a loud snapping crash. I gasp for breath, my weapon is gone from my hand. My eyes dart across the floor, looking for it. My heart freezes when I hear a poison-dripped laugh and I’m almost afraid to look up, but I do.

Leopold stands there, laughing with tears in his eyes. In one hand, his Hammer crackles with dangerous power and the other holds a handle of a sword. The metal used to craft it, snapped in half, shattered on the floor.

A sword that knew only of what I knew, what secrets I kept, lay broken at the feet of the enemy.

A loss?

Most people would think so.

But I refuse to give up. I swore my allegiance to The Elven King, my longtime friend, my partner in battle. Kelvhan. He is stronger than me, but I am stronger than this fake Paladin who calls himself a man of Justice. 

I stand, using a hand to balance myself against the wall. My breathing evens but my heart continues to pound.

“Look at where your placement is!! You’ve lost!! I’ve successfully defeated you!! You will no longer look down upon me!!” Leopold throws back his head and laughs.

I catch the sound of shivering metal and a whiff of a familiar smell, like lavender and daisies mixed with honey in the spring. I push off the wall and charge at the Paladin, screaming a war cry. Leopold’s mouth twists into a sickening grin and he throws his arm up, Hammer crackling and ready to strike down anyone in its path. 

A rope flies through the air, falling over the hammer and tightening around the wrist. I slide in between the Paladin's legs as he drops his weapon in surprise, giving me the chance to take True Justice into my hands.

The rope is tugged backwards, making Leopold stumble and I roll out of the way in time as a screaming blur of furry tackles the Paladin to the floor, tangling him in a net. My grip tightens on the hammer as I stand.

“Make sure his arms and legs are secured!”

The voice makes me turn and I release a deep breath, “Wendy…”

She stands like a true warrior, raven hair wild and long from her time in the forest. She wears armor made of leather and leaves, minimal protection but her tribe can outrun most foes. Her porcelain skin is decorated with a drop of blood but the scars on her arms show she is a force to be reckoned with. Almost as if she were a princess, she walks to me and places a gentle hand on my shoulder.

“You’re not too badly hurt, I hope?”

I shake my head and sigh, “I’m just glad to see you.”

“We got here as fast as we could. Kelvhan can really make those Hawthorns grow,” she laughs and I smile.

Of course, the attack signal. Now was the time to attack the Wizard King. I hold out the Hammer to her, I don’t need it. Wendy frowns and refuses to take it.

“You need a weapon,” she insists.

I shake my head, “Not this one.”

“T-Take this!”

I turn to the other person, a rogue barbarian with wide eyes, blond hair, and tattered leather pants. His body and face is covered with black-striped tattoos and a trembling hand holds out a sword bigger than what I’m used to. It’s one of the many tools of trade the Barbarians use in bloody battles. I trade the Hammer for the sword, testing it in my hands. It’s heavy, but nothing I can’t handle. I nod in thanks.

“There!! Get them!”

The three of us turn to see the Wizard’s guards coming in to attack. 

Wendy shouts at me to go, she knows how I feel about The Elven King being alone. I dart at the stairs and I hear Barbarian warcries and a Woman’s battle as my feet pound at the carpeted steps. They’ll be alright, I just need to find My Lord.

I climb the floors and I see the ends of tree roots covering the ceiling of a hallway. My eyes widen. The attack signal.

I sprint down the hall and between the many tangles of roots and leaves, I realize that I recognize this particular hallway. I pray this isn’t what I think it is.

I push my tired legs to go faster. This can’t be. My King wouldn’t…

I turn a corner and freeze. I can’t breathe.

No…

The doors to the throne room are wide open, and I see a grizzly sight.

Kelvhan and Feldspar stand in the middle of the Great Throne Room. The towering assassin screeches a deathly song, his arms pulling the dead from beneath him. Human-like bodies of decay stumble forward, but a flash of great light engulfs the group, killing them. Feldspar cries out in pain and agony as the sunlight scorches his half-mist body. As the flash fades, Feldspar falls to the ground, his body almost melting into the golden-laced carpeting. Kelvhan looks at the body in shock before his head snaps forward, vines growing from his hands and flying across the room.

Flames from an unseen enemy circle around the vines and wrap around My King, the flames tearing his skin apart. I scream and run forward as he falls to the ground, ashes and embers staining his robe with death.

He gasps for breath, eyes half open and fingers twitching. He’s alive but hurt and weak. I can hardly think as I stand. 

“Not a step closer, traitor.”

The shrill and child-like voice pounds my mind to pieces, blocking out the shouts of war beneath the room and when I look up, a newfound anger washes over me. I grip the Barbarian Sword in my hands, ready to fight the Wizard King.

“Y-You...you did this.” My voice trembles with tears. I refuse to let him escape with his crime.  
The Wizard King merely laughs and stands from his cushioned, golden throne.

He’s fat like a king, no doubt from eating anything he can get his hands on. His robes are decorated with all types of colors, made from the finest of silk. Sunrise and bubble gum and evergreen and starlight and more clothe his greedy body. His hands clutch a long wooden staff with a shining blue crystal, the source of his power.

The Wizard grins down at me, “So you’re here to die, too?”

I growl as I point my sword at this so-called king, “You’ve burned down forests and murdered innocent people, I will not stand by any longer and let you destroy this land!”

The Wizard King rolls his eyes and yawns, “Hurry up with your speech so I can deal with the rest of your friends.”

How dare he speak so lowly of the people who protect this earth! I glance at the staff in his hands; I need to destroy it. That is the source of his power, unlimited wealth and greed, used to get what he wants, no matter how or from who. Risk does not exist. Only fear.

“J-Just reverse your spell, give life back to the forest. Give us the power to keep your crops alive and your cattle healthy. We are both human, no matter what difference in our power. We are both important in this life. Please, stop this bloodshed.”

The Wizard King turns up his nose, placing a hand on his chin in thought. My heart rises for a moment. Maybe everything will be okay. Maybe this war will finally end and we can live in a shared peace.

He grins at me. A sickening, twisted grin from the mouth of hell. He slams his staff against the floor and the burned vines surrounding my feet slither up my legs, hissing. 

I’m terrified of snakes.

I shriek and swing the Barbarian Sword at the army of bones and scales, slicing each animal in half. The Wizard King roars with laughter, tears in his eyes. Everything is entertainment to him, pain and suffering, the death of others. Nothing matters to him until he gets his way.  
Then, the sound of sleigh bells suddenly fly through the air and an arrow, pink like cherry blossoms, makes contact with The Wizard King’s shoulder. He screeches in agony he never experienced and drops his staff. I watch it clatter to the floor and the snakes wither to dust.  
The Princess runs to my side, another arrow ready to fire at the Wizard King.

The shawl around her neck matched pace with the flowing of her golden-river hair. The violet silk dress fluttered between her legs, tattered from the battle below. I nod thanks to her but her eyes are daggers, pointing at the Wizard in his place.

The King screamed in anger, “You Traitor! I Knew It Was You! You’re The One Who Let Them In! I’ll Kill You Myself!”

He makes a quick move to pick up his staff but the Princess is faster, shooting another blissful arrow, straight and true, into the Wizard King’s fresh bleeding wound. He screams again and I don’t think. I run forward, dropping my sword.

I bend down, scooping the Wooden Staff in my hands, the blue crystal shining brightly. I turn to the Wizard King. No, the Wizard. He is not a King anymore. I swing the staff, right at his head. The crystal shatters as it smashes into Wizard’s forehead, making him stumble backwards into his throne of defeat. 

He sits there, and he laughs.

He laughs as the trickle of blood runs down between his eyes, around his nose, and onto his lips. I look at him in confusion and anger. His power is gone. He should be crying and complaining, not laughing as if he had won.

“The wood,” a gentle whisper of birds beside me.

I turn to the princess.

“The wood,” she whispers. “The power comes from the staff, not the stone.”

My eyes widen and I look back at the Wizard. I almost ask if it’s true, but I know he would lie. But his face says it all. He is glaring at the princess, wishing an agonizing undead living onto her.

I look down at the old wooden stick in my hands. He is nothing without it. I lift my knee and slam the staff over it, the wood snapping in two.

My body spazzes and I lean back unnaturally. I can’t tell if the loud crack came from the wood or my body. I drop the broken stick, but my hands are still on fire. I see it all.

I see a beggar finding the staff, finding its power, destroying the land, overthrowing the Princess, terrorizing anyone below him. I see a King stealing, using unruly power to feed himself and satisfy his hunger. I see him laugh at the poor and unfortunate, overthrowing the balance of life and shifting the impossible into his favor.

And the entire time, all I feel is pain. I feel the forest between my fingertips, crying. I hear the people screaming for justice and righteousness. I want to give it to them. I want to give them back what was stolen from them. 

But I can’t.

I don’t know how.

I’m scared. I can feel the Wizard’s life fade as his soul turns to be judged by the Dark Lord. The pain is from everyone, and my eyes water with tears that can not be freed.

My burning hands are reaching out, grabbing for something, anything, to hold on to.

It stops.

The pain stops.

And through the spilling tears in my eyes, I can see him.

He has a bleeding scar across his forehead, blending against his autumn hair. His kelly-lime eyes blink with tiredness and sadness. But he smiles at me, that familiar smile from when we were kids, playing in the forest.

I feel his power of life flow into me and help me control the power the Wizard King once wielded. This new power, mixed with the old, helps my body become a suitable source of the power. My feet melt into the floor and I feel my legs harden as if I were turning into stone. I am not afraid, though. I am not turning into stone, but something filled with life. My toes are now roots, digging into the carpet and stone of the throne room.

“K-Kelvhan…” I whisper, “What...What are you doing…?”

My Best Friend smiles at me, his eyes turning slowly from his brilliant color to a dull grey and my aching heart flutters.

“I’m helping you. Just like the many times...you’ve helped me, My Warrior.”

I grip his hands, those careful pale hands, as I lean into his lips and he kisses me back.


	2. Epilogue

The Elven King grips on the railing of the staircase, his feet carefully trailing over each step, climbing up and up, higher into the deep ends of the broken castle. His breaths are slow and even, his dull eyes cast downward in concentration. As he reaches the highest floor, he feels a rough root wrap around his ankle, tugging softly but impatiently. Kelvhan chuckles and his feet glide across the floor, walking down a hallway littered with fallen leaves and the knots of branches.

His hands brush against the young bark of the growing tree as it leads him to the throne room. Everything important happened that day. A life was banished, stolen property was returned, life prospered, and The Elven King lost his sight.

And if he had to do everything over again, he would suspect that his sight would have been lost no matter what. But he lost one thing and gained another. His forest, his home, grew back and he could hear the praise and thanks coming from every source of life within his home.  
And that all was because of one person.

Kelvhan entered the throne room, following a path he knew by heart to a small start of a Maple Tree. He knelt before it, his fingers brushing against the marigolds surrounding the little tree. His hands reached out to the trunk of the Maple, tracing over what used to be his Greatest Warrior and Lover.

He could feel the way His Warrior lay in the bark of the tree, as if he were sleeping, although, that was far from true, His Warrior was always alert and reliable.

The Elven King lay his head down on what would have been his Lover’s lap, feeling the gentle shift of the tree as leaf-filled branches hugged him, wrapping around his wrist in comfort.

“Do you mind if I say here the night?” The Blind King asked gently.

The soft whisper of his hero echoed through his ears.

“Not at all.”


End file.
